


Clean Slate

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: Fan fiction of fan fiction [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Don't copy to another site, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Fan Fiction of Fan Fiction, M/M, No Quarter fan fiction, Pirate Hunter Greg, Pirate Mycroft, endings and beginnings, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Ten years later Capt. Mycroft Holmes is ready to leave his life as a pirate, but what does that mean for Capt. Greg Lestrade?





	Clean Slate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Mottlemoth's "No Quarter" I envisioned an alternate happy ending for our favorite pirate and pirate hunter.

Greg stood at the bow and looked up into the blue Caribbean sky. The sun was lowering and the breeze was beginning to settle. He took a deep lungful of salt air mingled with the smells of the port on the not too distant shore. Days like these were bittersweet.

 

The first day like this was nearly ten years ago. The day the pirate Capt. Mycroft Holmes released Greg to resume his life as a pirate hunter. He’d spent a week being Mycroft’s captive come lover. It was the beginning of strange, yet beautiful relationship.

 

A few months later they encountered each other again, only this time it was Greg who gained the upper hand. With a knowing grin Greg offered Mycroft the same choices he’d been given. And so it began.

 

They each roamed the seas living their lives—Mycroft plundering wealthy merchantmen and Greg seeking Mycroft’s more villainous compatriots. Every few months they’d run afoul of each other. Neither was willing to cut and run and neither wished to truly harm the other. Greg instructed his crew to capture the pirate Capt. Holmes. Similarly Mycroft warned his crew the pirate hunter Capt. Lestrade was not to be harmed. The winner of the battle kept the other ‘prisoner’ in their cabin until the ship arrived in port. There an “escape” would occur.

 

This time was Mycroft’s turn to escape.

 

Greg heard a sound behind him. He turned to see Mycroft come up on deck and make his way over to him. In ten years Mycroft’s red beard had faded and more than a few grays were sprinkled through the ginger. His hair had thinned and deep lines at the corners of his eyes had been carved by the sea and sun. Well Greg supposed he’d aged too. His hair was nearly all silver and his jawline was softer. Most days his left shoulder wouldn’t raise his arm above his head. The sea was a hard life.

 

“All set?” Greg asked as Mycroft took his place next to Greg at the bow.

 

“Yes.”

 

“She’s ready.” Greg thrust his chin in the direction of the small scow tethered to the port side

 

“Do you think your crew is even remotely fooled by this final charade?”

 

“Nah. After ten years I expect the rumors have reached everyone. But it gives them plausible deniability.”

 

Mycroft arched his eyebrows. “Big words.”

 

“Learned them from you.”

 

A small smile twitched upon Mycroft’s lips. Greg smiled back more broadly, and then he looked away. Mycroft turned his gaze toward the shore as well. They were quiet listening to the waves lap against the hull. A seabird called from above.

 

“I’ll miss this.” Without looking Greg slid his hand atop Mycroft’s as they leaned on the rail. He brushed his thumb over Mycroft’s knuckles seeking the space on the middle finger where a gold ring once sat. He repressed a shudder. The absence of Mycroft’s fourth and fifth finger still discomfited him.

 

“I will as well,” Mycroft murmured.

 

“Let’s not wait a year until next time.”

 

Mycroft sighed. He closed his eyes. “There won’t be a next time.”

 

Greg’s thumb stilled. “What do you mean? Are you giving up piracy?”

 

“Yes, but not because I’ve seen the error of my ways.” There was amusement in Mycroft’s voice as he alluded to their old argument. The high emotions from heated debate had fueled many an intense night of pleasure.

 

Though lately, Greg was less adamant about the evils of piracy. He’d come to recognize there were pirates and then there were _pirates_. It was the latter he focused his energies on these days. Perhaps that’s why it had taken so long for them to meet again.

 

“Why?’ Greg asked softly. His hand tightened slightly on Mycroft’s.

 

Mycroft kept his voice light. “I’m too old for this life. It’s time to retire and enjoy my ill gotten gains.”

 

Greg scoffed. “You’re not old. You’re younger than me.”

 

“Tell that to my back.”

 

“Nothing’s been wrong with your back, or backside, this past month.” Greg’s bright smile tugged at Mycroft’s heart.

 

“Wretch,” Mycroft replied fondly. He looked down at their hands casually resting together on the railing.

 

Greg followed his gaze. “Is there someone else? A governor’s daughter?” He lifted his eyes to meet Mycroft’s startled blues.

 

“Certainly not!” Mycroft indignant response caused Greg to chuckle. “Never.” He earnestly added. Mycroft was a masterful liar, but Greg knew in this matter he was speaking the truth.

 

“You’re not old… love.” Greg wished to caress Mycroft’s cheek. “You’re a man in his prime.”

 

Mycroft sighed. “I’m making mistakes. My eyes can’t read the charts as well. My reflexes are slowing.” He pulled his hand from Greg’s and showed him the damage. “Unlike you, I’m not welcome in every port. It’s harder to rest and recover.” Greg nodded in understanding but didn’t trust his voice to speak. A great yawning chasm had opened in his chest. “You didn’t expect this to last forever, did you?”

 

“No. I… I just didn’t expect it to end like this.”

 

“Greg…”

 

Greg shook himself and straightened. “But you’re right. The alternative…” He trailed off.

 

Mycroft had straightened as well and they faced each other. Standing close, nearly chest-to-chest, Greg took a step back and offered his hand. “Good luck Capt. Holmes. May you have fair winds and following seas.”

 

Slowly Mycroft brought himself to shake Greg’s hand. They stared at one another for a long moment. Greg tried to put all the love he had for this man into his eyes and then started to withdraw his hand only to find Mycroft clutching it.

 

“I don’t suppose you’d consider coming with me?” Mycroft’s question was posed in a lazy, offhanded manner. The casual delivery was countered by a gentle gripping of his hand and glimmer of desperate hope in Mycroft’s eyes.

 

“Come with you?” Greg felt the hole in his chest fill with healing warmth.

 

“Yes. I’ve a Letter of Marque from France and a lovely villa on a mountainside in Martinique. We can live out our days as kings.” The desperate hope had spread to Mycroft’s voice.

 

“I’ll not live off your pirate booty.” Greg’s words were firm, but he found himself shifting towards Mycroft. Their hands intertwined. Greg folded his fingers protectively over Mycroft’s stumps.

 

“No, I suppose not.” Mycroft murmured, disappointed.

 

 

Greg teetered on the edge of commitment. “We could combine our personal fortunes and live as wealthy baronets and use your ill-gotten gains for good.” Greg offered tentatively.

 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Good? Haven’t we been over this?”

 

“Hear me out.”

 

Greg had a dream, a fantasy really. It seemed what was a fantasy was now in reach. “We could open a home for retiring sea dogs, like yourself. Run it like a ship and treat them like crew. Have them use their skills, making rope, mending sails, rendering slush and the like, to help fund the home. You could be the captain...”

 

“And you the quartermaster?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“You’ve thought about this.” Mycroft was intrigued.

 

“Quite a bit actually. You convinced me a long time ago we could work well together. It was simply trying to find something we might want to work together on. And…” Greg flushed under his tan, suddenly uncertain. “If you’d want to be with me, blunt and bone-headed as I am.”

 

“And you’d want to be with me? Professional bastard that I am?” Mycroft asked softly.

 

“Aye. I would.”

 

Mycroft nodded. “I think we could make this work.” He shifted his grip to shake Greg’s hand. “I accept your proposal, pending details to be worked out at a later date.”

 

Grinning they leaned against the bow railing, side by side now surveying the deck of Greg’s barque.

 

“Oi! Sailor!” Greg called out to a passing crewmember. “What’s that scow doing out? Bring it up before someone takes it in their head to go for a jaunt.” He turned his shining eyes on Mycroft. “Can’t have that happening. I’ll have you know Capt. Holmes, I run a tight ship.”

 

“That you do Capt. Lestrade.” Mycroft replied gravely. Together they watched the scow be hauled up from the sea and stowed away.


End file.
